Midnight Rose
by Jill2
Summary: Set within "The Gift", # 13 in the "Midnight"-series


FIC: Midnight Rose (1/1)   
Author: Jill  
Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them. Sigh! Parts of this is   
taken from the Angel-season-2-episode "No place like Plrtz Glrb" and from the   
BtVS-seson-5-episode "The Gift". They're not mine. They were written by wonderful   
authors who (sometimes) do a splendid job for the two shows. But I do adore "The   
Gift", and whatever I changed was in order to get B/A into it. I'm not making any money off this.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: B/A (strong in this part!), and the usual pairings from the show   
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you   
have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes  
Summary: Set at the end of "No place like Plrtz Glrb" and within "The Gift" -   
read notes for explanation. Coming back from his journey to save Cordelia, Angel   
finds out that Buffy is in mortal danger. This is set into canon, in an attempt   
to make the whole series more B/A-friendly. But don't expect too many smootchies!   
Spoilers: the whole B/A-canon to be sure, follows loosely "Midnight Angel",  
"Midnight Whispers", "Midnight Rainbow", "Midnight Hour", "Midnight Memory",   
"Midnight Protector", "Midnight Letter", "Midnight Encounters", "Midnight Eyes,   
"Midnight Lovers", "Midnight Kiss", and "Midnight Song", ". You should probably   
read it to understand this. And you should have seen season 5/2 or at least read   
the transcripts (http://www.psyche.kn-bremen.de), or you won't know what they're   
talking about.  
Feedback: oh yes, please  
Dedication: this goes to all of you who sent such great feedback. This really   
keeps me going!  
  
Missed any of the previous parts? Find them here:   
http://www.never-ending-love.de/My_series/Midnight_series/midnight_series.html  
  
Author's note 1: This part will close up season 2/5. There have been many   
questions if I'm going to continue the series into season 3/6, and today I'm glad to tell you, the answer is a big YES! So there should be more to come, simply because the way the current seasons are going ... well, I think we don't need to say it. Plus, I'm having lots of fun with this!   
  
Author's note 2: In order for this part to work properly, you have to think that   
"No Place like Plrtz Glrb" happened *before* "The Gift." The whole last episode   
of Angel-season-2 happened the way it did on the show, except Willow coming to   
L.A. Instead Angel finds something different when he comes back.   
  
Author's note 3: There has been some discussion in the feedback weather Lindsey   
has brown or blond hair. Well, I thought he had dark blond hair, because that's   
what I saw on the screen. And so I wrote it that way. I suppose as the story is   
written now, you have to live with it.  
  
Author's Note 4: At the beginning of "The Gift" when all the flashbacks run down, you have to add several meetings between Angel and Buffy, and other ... more intimate ... stuff in your mind. You know all the stuff that happened in the previous stories.   
  
Author's Note 5 (gee - a lot of them in this part!): ## ... ## means flashbacks  
  
  
  
They were all entering the garden court of the Hyperion, looking exhausted but   
happy to be back home. Well, almost all of them.   
  
"Are - are you sure about that?," Fred said, not feeling all too comfortable.  
  
"Trust me," Cordelia said in her typical manner. "Tacos everywhere - and - soap!"  
  
"Yo, that portal jumping is a fun ride. We sell it to a theme park we could get   
paid." Gunn grinned slightly.  
  
Pushing open the front door Angel and his friends entered, and Cordelia busied   
herself by walking over to the answering machine that was blinking rapidly. "Uh   
... look guys, several messages," she turned and smiled at them, "They were   
missing us." The messages started with someone calling from Wolfram & Hart, and   
she frowned, "Or maybe not." She sighed, then started flipping through the mail.  
  
Angel looked at her back, smiled too, "Okay," he gazed around, "Can I say it? I   
wanna say it."  
  
"Say what?," Wesley gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"There's no place like-"  
  
He was cut off by Buffy's voice from the answering machine "Angel. It's me. You   
said to call if I needed you. Well, I think the moment's here," she paused and   
Angel could hear her voice shake slightly, "I *really* need you. Please come."   
She paused again. "And ... uhm ... as soon as possible would be nice."  
  
Angel froze at her voice, the distress in it, the fear. Then his unfocussed eyes   
began to roam the hotel lobby, as if he was looking for something he couldn't   
find. "When did this call come in?," he asked nobody in particular.  
  
Cordelia had listened to Buffy on the machine in confusion, and was now watching   
her friend with increasing concern. The vampire looked like a caged animal, ready   
to strike. "Last night," she said slowly, "Why? What's going on?"  
  
"It's bad, Cordy," Angel replied, looking at her for the first time, "It's bad,"   
he repeated. As long as he lived he would never be able to forget the despair   
he'd heard in his lover's voice and it tore him apart. Never in all the time they knew each other, which was practically the whole time she'd been the slayer, she'd ever sounded so scared. She must have played it down all the times before, deliberately letting him believe she could handle Glory if it was really   
necessary.   
  
God, why hadn't he insisted on staying in Sunnydale, he wondered now? Why had he   
left her? Alone. Already it could be too late. Already she could be ... No, he   
couldn't go there. He couldn't let himself think about Buffy bruised, battered,   
maybe even ... No, if he'd let himself think that way he'd not be able to help.   
And help was what she needed now. "We're going to Sunnydale," he announced,   
looking at Gunn who was already collecting weapons.   
  
"*We*'re going?," Fred looked at the vampire in confusion. "And who's Buffy? What kind of name is that?"   
  
They all ignored her.  
  
"Uh ...," Wesley shifted on his legs, "I might point out the obvious here. But   
it'll be day soon. And your car might be okay to bring you to a warehouse near   
by, on the back seat, protected by a blanket. Sunnydale, however-"  
  
Cutting his friend off, Angel turned back to Gunn, "You still got that van?"  
  
"Sure," the other man replied.  
  
"Get it," the vampire ordered. "We need to go there. Now."  
  
Hearing the urgency in his friend's voice Gunn just nodded, and left.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," Fred said frowning slightly. "I just got here. I ... I   
don't want to leave."  
  
"You'll stay," Angel said shortly, turning towards the stairs. "At least one of   
you has to come with me. The others are free to stay. As soon as Gunn returns we   
leave." With this he hurried towards his room without looking back.  
  
"This doesn't sound good," Cordelia slightly shook her head, her worried gaze   
finding Wesley's. "God, and to think I gave up being a princess for this."  
  
"Who is Buffy?," Fred inquired again.  
  
"She is ... was Angel's girlfriend," Cordy explained, grabbing her purse from the desk. "They had the whole big forbidden-love thing going on. They're separated for a while but ...," she sighed, then gestured with her free hand, "It's a long story. Maybe some other day ... when I have time ...," she trailed off, seeing Wesley walk towards the office. "Wes, what are you doing?"  
  
"Calling Rupert. If something's going on there, he should know."  
  
"Oh," she nodded, "Good idea."  
  
*  
  
He returned only a minute later, "Nobody at home. I left a message to call us   
back."  
  
"Not really helping at the moment," the former cheerleader sighed, leaned against the counter. "God, this is my dream come true. Returning to L.A. only to go rescue Buffy."  
  
"You can stay." Angel's voice was cool, his eyes carefully blank, as he stepped   
down the stairs, holding his battle axe, "This is about Buffy. She is my   
problem."  
  
"No," Wesley stepped in front of him, putting a hand on the vampire's arm, "It   
concerns us ... me ... too. I'm your friend. And you seem to need help. So, what   
I want to say it. I'm coming with you."  
  
"Thanks, Wes," Angel smiled slightly, and nodded.   
  
"Hey, I never said I wouldn't come. Only because it's not my favourite past time, it doesn't mean ... well, I'm coming too." Cordelia clutched her purse a little tighter.  
  
The vampire acknowledged it with another nod, then walked over to Fred. "Stay,"   
he told her softly. "You couldn't help us anyway. You don't know this world   
anymore. Take any room you like. There's lots of them."  
  
"O-okay," she gave him a smile. "I'll be ... taking care of ... things."  
  
"That's good," he smiled back, had to force himself to do so, worry almost   
consuming him. With each moment it could be too late. He had to be near her. And   
inwardly he was cursing his very existence. Damn sun. In Pylea it wouldn't hurt   
him. And here it forced him to lose precious time. It was still dark outside, but it would be day soon. He could feel the sun already. There was no way around it, he had to wait for Gunn's van.  
  
The same moment the door flew open, "You car is waiting," Gunn's serious eyes   
found Angel.   
  
"Okay," the vampire grabbed his coat, "Let's go."  
  
*  
  
Inside the Summers house, Buffy turned to Spike, "Come in," she tossed over her   
shoulder.  
  
He grinned, "Hmm. Presto. No barrier." His grin faded and his blue gaze rested   
intently on the Slayer for a moment, then he broke it, and walked into the living room. "Um, won't bother with the small stuff. Couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself." He opened the chest, started to grab several weapons.  
  
Still standing in the hall, Buffy looked at him for a long moment, "We're not all gonna make it. You know that."  
  
"Yeah," he told her without looking up. Then taking some more weapons, he turned   
and walked towards her. "Hey. I always knew I'd go down fightin'."  
  
"I'm counting on you," she replied. "To ... protect her."  
  
Spike's eyes turned speculative for a moment, "Tell me something. Why didn't you   
call the great Poof?"  
  
Something flickered through her eyes, but it was gone instantly, "That's none of   
your business," she snapped.   
  
"Hey, hey," he reached out as if to touch her, then pulled his hand back. "I   
didn't mean it that way. You two just seemed ... close. Lately."  
  
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, "I'm the Slayer, Spike," she said. "This is my   
job. Angel has his own. He's got ... responsibilities of his own."  
  
"Oh, yeah," the blond vampire's voice turned sarcastic. "I thought he was so in   
love with you," he mimicked Angel at his last words. "Well, I can't see him   
protecting you now."  
  
At that she whirled around, "Shut up," she shouted. "You have no idea what you're talking about. He would be here," her anger faltered, and she stepped back, "if he could." Then she took a deep breath. "I'll be a minute," she said and went up the stairs.  
  
Behind her, Spike watched her go, "I'm going to take care of her," he said   
quietly, "Till the end of the world. Even if it happens tonight." And before she   
had reached the top of the stairs he added, "I know you'll never love me."  
  
She stopped, turned, and looked at him.  
  
"I know I'm a monster. And I know you'll probably gonna love Angel ... forever.   
But you treat me like a man. And that's ..." She gazed a him, and he felt   
suddenly uncomfortable. "Get your stuff," he said gruffly. "I'll be here."  
  
*  
  
"Can't you drive faster?," Angel asked from the back, the sun slowly beginning to rise at the horizon. He had driven for the first part, and now Gunn had taken   
over.   
  
"Sorry, but the car's already giving all it's got."  
  
"Angel, calm down," Wesley exchanged a look with Cordelia.   
  
"Sorry to say that now, Wes. But shut the hell up," the vampire hissed, looking   
out of the window, staring at the sun, then retreating into the back when the   
rays were threatening to become too dangerous.  
  
"Angel, I'm sure she is alright," Cordy said, smiling at him. But he didn't   
return her smile, just kept staring into the darkness. The brunette directed her   
gaze at Wesley, but he simply shook his head in the negative, signalling her that this was not the time to discuss things. So Cordelia finally sighed and leaned back in her seat.  
  
*  
  
Glory put a hand on her forehead, walked, stumbled, feeling weak, and not all   
godly. "Big day. I got places to be, big day. Need a brain." Then suddenly   
focussing on something right in front of her she scoffed, "Suppose I could always   
use yours."  
  
"Okay then."  
  
The Slayer stood there with her hands clasped behind her back. She raised a brow, and her challenging eyes were on Glory, "Come and get it."  
  
*  
  
"Drive left over there," Angel directed from the back, and Gunn did as told.  
  
"You know where you going, man?"  
  
"No," the vampire replied, trying to concentrate. He had no idea where to find   
her, so he tried to use their link, tried to use the feeling he always had when   
she was near, the feeling that had intensified over the last weeks of closeness   
between them. It was much stronger now, worked even over a greater distance.   
Maybe if he just closed his eyes and- "Stop," he shouted, suddenly feeling his   
insides flutter. "She has to be close."  
  
"Uh, Angel-"  
  
"Shut up, Cordy," he hissed, "Drive on, Gunn." Then, realising how he was talking   
to them, he sighed, "Sorry."  
  
"It's okay," the brunette said softly. "You're concerned."  
  
He looked at he, "Yeah. I am. Something's not right. I have a bad feeling."  
  
"Where now?," Gunn interrupted them, standing at a crossroad.   
  
Angel closed his eyes again, then pointed to the right. Gunn nodded and drove on.   
  
And then suddenly it hit him. The feeling was intense all of a sudden. Almost   
burning in his gut. "Stop," he told his friend and the car came to a sudden halt. "It has to be in the warehouse. The old one, over there. With the...," he stopped his eyes widening, "What the hell is that?," he asked, staring at the tower.  
  
"A tower?," Cordy asked, cocking her head.  
  
"Yes, definitely a tower", Wesley agreed. "Very strange."  
  
"Drive as close as possible," Angel said, trying to see as much as possible   
without being burnt by the sun-rays.  
  
That was when they heard the first scream. It was Dawn's voice, the vampire   
recognized it instantly. Before Gunn had reached the warehouse, he tore the   
side-door open, and jumped out, ignoring the sunlight he stormed towards the   
warehouse, jumping the last bit of the distance and rolling inside, into the   
shadow, his pants starting to burn, he landed in front of Willow's feet who let   
out a shriek, then recognizing him, her eyes widened.  
  
"Angel," she stared at him, her hand clutched with Tara's.  
  
Not bothering with greetings, Angel stood, his eyes wild, "Buffy? Where's Buffy?"  
  
Willow looked at him sadly, and he asked again, "Where is Buffy?"   
  
Giving him another long look, the redhead finally raised her head looking up,   
towards the platform. Following her gaze, Angel gasped. There were Buffy and   
Dawn, standing together, talking. And behind them a portal was opening. Angel   
had never seen the portal that swallowed him all those years ago, but he could   
imagine it must have been similar. Then, the sacrifice had been his blood, now   
... "No."   
  
The hoarse cry tore from his throat and he stumbled towards the tower, forgetting the others around him, his eyes solely focussed on the girls up on the tower, still talking. Tears were now streaming down Dawn's face, and he knew. Just like that, he knew what was going to happen. He knew because he knew *her*. She would never sacrifice her sister. He knew she wouldn't be able to do it again.   
  
For a moment he stopped, closed his eyes, then willed himself to open them again, to look at her. The beautiful, brave girl, he'd loved from the moment he'd seen her. All the images flashed through his head. The day he'd seen her coming down the stairs at Hemry, the night she'd knocked him down, their first kiss, the night of her 17th birthday, the months after that, all the other times they'd been together, the wonderful weeks they'd shared after his soul had become his for good.   
  
He didn't realise there were tears streaming down his face. He didn't realise   
either that the others around were staring at him now. He didn't care.   
  
((Death is your gift.))  
  
He remembered the words. She'd told him about it. Had snorted at the nonsense.   
But deep inside she'd known. And now he understood it too.   
  
He saw Buffy turn away from her sister, and then for a moment her eyes found his.   
And what he saw tore at his heart. There was peace. He saw her recognizing him,   
saw a small smile tug at her lips, he managed to smile back, and a world of   
emotions passed in that one short look. The world seemed to stand still for this   
one second. For the moment they were together.   
  
Then she straightened, and began to run. He could almost see the determination   
in her eyes and heard someone cry out her name. A hoarse cry, ripped from a soul, full of agony, full of loss, and Angel realised in surprise it had been his own voice.   
  
And then, she jumped.  
  
*****  
  
It was peaceful at the cemetery that night. He remembered another time he'd been   
here. They sat together, her head leaning against his shoulder, her body close to his, he told her about his soul, and they found their way back together.   
  
Her headstone was simple, tasteful. Willow had chosen it. Due to him they had   
timed the ceremony at sundown, so he could attend. He could barely remember it.   
  
The last two days had gone by like a blur. After Buffy had jumped through the   
portal, they had found her broken body, and Willow had taken charge of the things that had to be done. Angel still admired the strength the former shy redhead had shown.   
  
Giles hadn't been able to do it. He had aged overnight. Angel remembered the   
watcher's red-rimmed eye at the funeral, the way he barely kept himself upright.   
He had lost much more than his Slayer. He had lost a girl he had loved like a   
daughter.   
  
Dawn hadn't stopped crying since. She'd closed herself up in her room after the   
funeral. Or so Spike had told him. Angel hadn't tried to see the girl. He had   
always liked her, but she'd been a little kid the time he'd spent in Sunnydale,   
and now, so he had to admit, they weren't close.  
  
Spike. The name shot through his mind, but for once there was no anger connected   
to it. Whatever Spike's feelings towards Buffy were, one thing was certain. The   
usually cocky vampire suffered. As much as Angel hated to admit it, Spike actions were those of a man who had lost someone he deeply cared for, maybe even more. There was no use hating him. Buffy was dead. Nothing else mattered. Not anymore.  
  
He and his grand-childe had met by accident last night, when he'd found the   
vampire at Buffy's grave, shortly after the funeral had been over. He stood   
there, head bowed, flowers in his hand, when Angel had come by and overwhelmed by grief, the dark-haired vampire had instantly started picking on him.  
  
##  
  
"What are you doing here?," he hissed at the younger demon.  
  
Spike didn't look up, just kept staring at the grave, the flowers still clutched   
in his hand.  
  
"I asked-"  
  
"I heard you," the blond said quietly. "I'm mourning a friend."  
  
Angel raised a brow, "Oh, yeah. A friend, huh? Well, obviously you weren't that   
much of a friend to her. Friends look out for each other. You were supposed to   
help her. You said you loved her. But you did nothing to prevent this."  
  
At this Spike whirled around, his eyes blazing with anger, and grief. A grief so   
deep, Angel was almost tempted to search for a soul in his grand-childe. "I loved her," the blond shouted. "Hell. I still love her. Simple death can't change that. But I know she'd never have loved me back. I'm not stupid. I was a demon, evil to the core, and besides," he snorted, then shrugged, looked back towards the grave, "Even if she could have overlooked it, she was too much into you to love anyone else. Ask Riley, he could tell you the same story."  
  
Angel closed his eyes for a moment, "I'm sorry, Spike," he said finally.  
  
"Huh?" The younger demon stared at him incredulously. "Sorry for what?"  
  
His grand-sire shook his head slightly, "For too many things to count. Could   
you...," he had to clear his throat, "Could you probably leave me alone now?"  
  
"Sure," Spike replied gruffly, placing the flowers on the ground. Then grinned   
suddenly, cocking his head, "Be careful out here. Lots of vampires around." When   
Angel didn't respond, he turned and walked away.  
  
##  
  
Looking at the headstone again, Angel remembered their last, hasted phone-call   
before he and the others had left for Pylea. He could still hear her sweet,   
lovely voice, telling him to be careful, because she would be waiting for him.   
That their forever waited for them.  
  
A hoarse cry tore from his throat. It was a cry of pure anguish, coming from the   
depths of his soul, shouted at the moon, the stars, the Powers, for taking away   
the part of his life. Leaving him cold and lonely, and utterly empty. He didn't   
care for the tears running down his cheeks, just stared at her name on the   
headstone, the letters blurring in his vision, flowing together.   
  
He started when he heard the noise of footsteps, hastily tried to wipe the tears   
from his face, but relaxed when he recognized who was coming up, then sat   
down beside him.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Willow," he said, his voice still hoarse. "Wha -," clearing his throat, he   
started again, "What are you doing here? It's not safe on your own at the   
cemetery at night."  
  
She shrugged, "I'm not scared. I've become pretty powerful as a witch, you know.   
I could even hold my own against Glory," she frowned suddenly, "well at least one or two times." She paused and Angel started again when he felt her hand covering his. "How're you doing?"  
  
"Been better," he replied.   
  
"Yeah, I suppose you have." She was quiet for another while, before she went on.   
"I'm not sure how we'll be going on without her. She was part of this, of us, for so long ...," she shook her head, "Giles hasn't eaten for days."  
  
He had to swallow hard, "I'm not sure either. At the moment, everything seems   
useless." He turned to look at her, and saw that tears were running down her face as well.  
  
She looked at him, too, and smiled. Angel wanted to smile back, knew what she was trying to do. She'd come to help, to reach out her hand, to show him that she shared his grief. That he wasn't alone in this. But as much as he wanted to give something back to her, his lips wouldn't obey. His soul was so empty and cold, a smile didn't seem possible. So he just kept looking at her, hoping she'd   
understand. He felt her squeezing his hand, and knew she had.  
  
"I ... asked her," she said then, "why se didn't call you for help. You know when we were in the desert, and all the knights were around us and then Glory was taking Dawn and ... I mean, you were around a lot lately ... at least more often than before ... you know-"  
  
"Willow," he interrupted her, sighing slightly.  
  
"Sorry," she apologized, giving him a sheepish smile. "She said you were busy   
with Cordelia gone. That she was your responsibility, that you had to take care   
of her. And that Dawn was hers. That *she* was the Slayer after all."  
  
"God," the word slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and he had to look away again, agony threatening to consume him.   
  
"You should have seen her face, when Giles told her she had to sacrifice Dawn. I   
never saw her like that before. Not even when...," she broke off, but both knew   
what she was thinking of, "I think she remembered then. And I should have known.   
I should have known she wouldn't be able to do it. That she'd rather die herself, than to sacrifice her sister."  
  
She squeezed his hand again, then reached into her pocket. "She gave me this,"   
she said, and when he looked at her he saw her holding out a letter to him. He   
took it slowly, tentatively, as if touching something sacred, something utterly   
precious. And it was. It was the last words she'd written to him. Closing his   
fingers around the letter, he let out a breath.  
  
Willow's eyes flickered to his face, "I was thinking ... She wrote you a letter.   
But she didn't write one for any of us. I ... I don't understand it."   
  
Angel could hear the envy in her voice, even as she tried desperately to hide it. They were compassionate. All his friends. All her friends from Sunnydale, even Giles, and Xander, somehow feeling he'd probably lost more than they had. But none of them could know how deep this feeling of loss went in him. How could   
they?   
  
Those last weeks, months, had been as close to heaven Angel had felt in his whole life. Having that ripped away from him made him feel lonely and lost inside, had opened a void he was certain nothing would ever be able fill.   
  
The only question left, Angel thought, as he stared at the letter in his hand,   
then at Willow's expectant face, was, could he live with it? Would he be able to   
live again with all the cold and emptiness, after having bathed in the warmth and sunlight that was Buffy? At the moment he had not the slightest idea.  
  
He had been in another dimension, bathed in sunlight that meant nothing to him,   
had laughed, admired himself in a mirror, while Buffy had been battling the most   
powerful enemy of her whole life. He had accused Spike of not helping her. But he at least had been there, while Angel ...   
  
He had been so concerned about Cordy, when they'd talked on the phone, he could   
hardly remember the words. Now he would give the world to recall their exact   
conversation. To remember all the words Buffy'd said to him. He hadn't paid full attention. Was this the reason Buffy hadn't confided in him then? Had he failed her? He didn't know. And somehow that made things even worse. He was familiar with guilt, knew how to deal with it. But this uncertainty was slowly eating him up.   
  
But even if he wouldn't have been able to help, even if that was her fight, he   
would never forgive himself for not being there for her, for not holding her, for not easing her fear. She'd been alone. And she shouldn't have been. He should have been there. He had promised her. And had failed.  
  
He slipped the letter into the pocket of his jacket, then gazed back at Willow,   
the sadness in her eyes matching his. "You didn't need a letter," he said, coming to stand on his feet. "You were with her."  
  
Then he turned and left the cemetery.  
  
END 


End file.
